"Come, my dear Alceste, we are people of the world, let us act like such, whether we are here or elsewhere, it is of no import, I suppose, to the affair which interests you, and which now interests me extremely, since it is yours. Let us speak of this, and sincerely; I require it."
Thus saying, the duchess approached the fireplace, and, leaning against it, she put out the prettiest little foot in the world to warm it.
With perfect tact, Madame de Lucenay seized the occasion to speak no more of the viscount, and to converse with M. de Saint Remy on a subject to which he attached much importance.
"You are ignorant, perhaps, Clotilde," said the count, "that for a long time past I have lived at Angers?"
"No—I knew it."
"Notwithstanding the isolated state I sought, I had chosen this city, because one of my relations dwelt there, M. de Fermont, who, during my troubles, acted as a brother toward me, having acted as a second in a duel."
"Yes, a terrible duel; my father told me of it," said Madame de Lucenay, sadly; "but happily, Florestan is ignorant of this duel, and also of the cause that led to it."
"I was willing to let him respect his mother," answered the count,
and, suppressing a sigh, he continued, and related to Madame de
Lucenay the history of Madame de Fermont up to the time of her leaving
Angers for Paris.
That history, if the old count had known and related it all, would have run thus. Baron de Ferment's brother, ruined by concealed speculations, had left three hundred thousand francs with Jacques Ferrand. But when the baroness, upon her brother's suicide in desperation, and her husband's death, had claimed it from that honorable man, the notary had challenged her to produce proofs, of which she had not one, and had, moreover, met her with a demand for two thousand francs, a debt of the baron's to the notary. So she began to suffer every hardship from this abuse of trust. Presuming this, we let the count proceed:
"At the end of some time," said he, "I learned that the furniture of the house which she occupied at Angers was sold by her orders, and that this sum had been employed to pay some debts left by Madame de Fermont. Uneasy at this circumstance, I inquired, and learned vaguely that this unfortunate woman and her daughter were in distress—the victims, doubtless, of a bankruptcy. If Madame de Fermont could, in such an extremity, count on any one, it was on me. Yet I received no news from her. You cannot imagine my sufferings—my inquietude. It was absolutely necessary that I should find them, to know why they did not apply to me, poor as I was. I set out for Paris, leaving a person at Angers, who, if by chance any information was obtained, was to advise me."